


Destiel Moments

by twilightstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel's Handprint, Fluff, Fortune Cookies, Hell, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Purgatory, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 11, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstarr/pseuds/twilightstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Destiel oneshots--some fluff without plot, some UST-filled angst.  Destiel is my OTP; I just enjoy using Crowley as a romantic false lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean Winchester Deserves to Be Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A complication Castiel encounters while raising Dean from perdition

They were at the edge of hell. So far, Castiel was a ahead of the demons pursuing him, having flown as fast as he could without damaging the man he held tight to, though that was making an imprint. Still, he could feel the stench of malevolence approaching from all angles, as though the atmosphere of hell wasn't nauseous enough already. 

Castiel touched a finger to Dean’s forehead. 

Nothing happened. 

The angel was still for the for first time. Then, awkwardly, he rearranged their positions so that he could scrutinize Dean’s eyes. 

No, he had not been mistaken; his eyes were dark, but still green--not completely demon. Castiel should have been able to cure a partial demon state. 

That is, unless the recipient was unwilling. 

They didn't have much time, but crossing with Dean uncured risked him being demon enough to turn into smoke on Earth, a form in which he would be more able to elude them. 

“Why are you resisting me?” Castiel asked. 

Dean ignored the question and asked his own. “Who are you?” 

“I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord. We don't have much time. Let me restore you to full humanity and return you to Earth.” 

“I belong here.” 

“No, you do not.” 

“Wasn't I a bad person?” 

He must have forgotten. It angered Castiel that hell could convince Dean that he deserved it. “No, Dean Winchester. You are a good person. You are a hunter who has helped many people. You came here because you sold your soul to save your brother.” 

There was a flash of recognition in his eyes. “Sammy?” 

“Yes, Samuel Winchester.” 

The demons came into view, dashing toward them. Castiel flew across the threshold, tapping Dean’s head again, tense with the hope that this time it would work. 

On Earth, Dean awoke, the darkness gone from his eyes.


	2. Fortune Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confused and adorable Cas learning about fortune cookies

A fake credit card paid the bill. On the table before the hunters were four fortune cookies. 

Sam, Dean, and Charlie each grabbed one. 

“What are these?” Cas asked. 

“Fortune cookies,” replied Dean, taking the last one and handing it to Cas. “You break ‘em open, and inside there’s a prediction about your future.”

“How does the cookie know the future?” Cas asked in amazement, staring down at it in his palm. 

Even Dean couldn’t help a laugh. “It doesn’t really. They’re usually dead wrong or just too vague to mean anything. People just do it for fun.” 

“Like this Cas.” Charlie, who had hers out of the plastic wrapper first, demonstrated snapping it in half. “You will soon overcome a challenge,” she read. 

Sam followed. “Good health will be yours for a long time.” 

“Guess eating all that salad and healthy crap will pay off,” smirked Dean. 

Sam rolled his eyes.

Cas tore off the wrapper and broke his cookie. “People learn little from success, but much from failure.” He tilted his head. “But this isn’t a prediction.” 

“Yeah, sometimes it’s just some mumbo jumbo trying to sound all wise and poetic,” Dean explained. He cracked his open. “That which you seek has been with you all along.” He glanced involuntarily at Cas. 

Cas smiled back at him. “That one is correct.” 

They hovered there for a long second. 

“Idiots,” Sam mumbled. 

“Get on with it!” Charlie ordered. 

Slightly flushed, they leaned toward each other and kissed. 

“Hey!” They both exclaimed as Charlie playfully attempted to swipe their cookie halves.


	3. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think Crowley knew exactly what he was messing with in season 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 6 spoilers

Cas knew not how long he'd been standing here staring at the house. So far, Dean hadn't come outside, and Cas had decided against going inside, as this seemed like it it would be “getting into personal space”. He didn't belong inside this house where there dwelled normal life. 

“Thought you might be here again,” said a deep British voice behind him. “You might want to be less predictable in the future if you don't want Raphael to find you, Castiel. That is, of course, unless you’re going to accept my offer, in which case, he’ll be hiding from you.” Since Cas didn't turn, Crowley came around to face him. “You don't have much time to consider. Made up your mind yet?” 

Their previous conversation had been replaying constantly in Cas’s mind. He was at war with himself, having qualms about inciting a civil war in heaven as well as allowing the apocalypse to begin all over again. “Everything Sam and Dean have worked for,”* Crowley had said. After seeing Dean so peaceful, the thought of causing him more suffering was painful, maybe even more so than hurting angels. “God chose you to save us.” The other angels had seemed to think so. Having them follow him would at least be better than them following Raphael, who would revoke any chance they might have had at learning free will. 

“We split purgatory, I get fifty thousand souls from hell right away, and Dean will not be disturbed?” Cas asked to confirm. 

“Precisely.” 

“Then I agree.” 

“Fabulous.” Cas tried to ignore the subtle malevolence in Crowley’s smile as he stepped closer. “So then, I’ll give you the souls, and you can go show Raphael you mean business--let me know how it goes; meanwhile, I’ll start abducting monsters.” 

“All right.” Cas nodded. 

Cas was taken aback when Crowley came farther still into his proximity, grabbed his trench coat, and then kissed him. When Crowley stepped back, his eyes were glowing red, and Cas could feel a wave of power wash over him. “There you are, kitten,” said Crowley, his eyes returning to normal with a blink. 

“This deal does not involve my soul. We did not have to kiss,” Cas said, thoroughly confused with this behavior. 

“No, we didn't have to, but it’s more fun that way.”

“Why? Because of my sex appeal?” 

“You can be so daft,” Crowley chuckled, glancing for an instant at the house before disappearing, leaving Cas stunned in bewilderment. 

Cas had wondered sometimes, when he was close to Dean, what kissing him would feel like. Sometimes, he'd thought it even looked like Dean might feel something between them as well, but apparently, Dean loved this Lisa, and it was likely Cas had simply misunderstood Already, he missed him deeply, but he had to accept that he had no place in Dean’s life anymore. 

But this was so forward and out of the blue that he didn't know what to feel about it. Did he like it, or was he just curious… or just lonely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *It would be awesome if someone would tell this newbie how to do italics, because it doesn't appear to be copying and pasting my italics.


	4. Spring Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas helps Dean appreciate little things. Also, I think Cas would have a cat.

One morning, Dean was having trouble finding Castiel, growing paranoid as his hunter reflexes imagined the various monsters that might have taken him. It was only after he heard Cas reply to one of his calls, “I’m here Dean,” from outside that he felt silly for panicking so easily. 

It was the kind of spring morning that followed a night of downpour, the sky grey on one half and still tinted dawn’s pink on the other, the air warm with a cool breeze, the earth soggy. The birds chirped, the zephyr whispered, the bee wind chime danced, and Cleopatra’s paw splashed in the puddle she was studying. 

“What brought you out here so damn early?” Dean asked, rubbing his face in tiredness from his worrying. 

“It’s a beautiful morning. It just got me thinking, people often channel their discontent with their lives at the morning, but it deserves some appreciation,” Cas explained with a smile that Dean simply had to sit beside. 

“Beautiful? It’s kind of grey and wet and muddy.” 

“Why can’t that be beautiful? The environment goes through numerous phases, all with their own sort of beauty. Earth is truly a wondrous planet.” 

Dean knew, when Cas wrapped an arm behind him, that he would be staying there a while, though he found he didn’t mind so much. The temperature was comfortable, and the chimes and chirps were pretty, and there were no words for what Cas was. 

Grey spread across the sky, and it began to sprinkle. Cleopatra, while fascinated with puddles, seemed not to care for rain and came purring to snuggle with Dean and Cas.


	5. Where Dean Found Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world could end tomorrow, and Dean's nightmares lead to overdo introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 11 spoilers

Dean tossed and turned. He couldn’t go back to sleep. His head, his body, his heart, his very soul ached with fatigue, but his mind refused to wind down. 

With the potential end of the world as he knew it coming up, one would think in his nightmares, Dean would see Amara, Lucifer, or a spread of a thousand victims; but instead, Dean saw Cas wounded, dying just before he could explain how important Cas really was to him and how sorry he was that he made him feel unappreciated. In his dreams were also flashes of memories leaking from his subconscious where he'd stuffed them--swearing he was not himself in those moments. Dean muttered curses. Why did these thoughts have to poke through the wall now? 

In his sleep, Dean had tried to tell Cas he loved him, the desperation to convey it still pounding in his heart for a moment after he snapped awake. Now his head was reeling, wondering if he really was in love with Cas. 

How could he be? Throughout his life, Dean had only felt interest in women, right? 

Not exactly. 

There was that time he found himself falling for an FBI agent, but he'd turned out to be a siren, so it must have just been the compulsion of seduction magic. 

Then there was purgatory. Of course Dean wouldn’t have been quite right in the head in that place. Though he perhaps struck Benny as hell-bent about finding Cas, Dean was simply loyal like that by nature, and it was only in the moment of intense relief and joy at finding Cas in one piece that Dean had grabbed his face and kissed him.

Finally, there was his time as a demon. Reflecting upon this, of all things, brought Dean the most chagrin. He wished he could erase it from his memory, but he couldn’t shrug off all of Crowley’s passive-aggressive looks and comments. Half of him felt like Crowley deserved an apology; the other half was terrified of owning anything that had happened between them. 

Why was he so scared though? It was the the fault of the Mark of Cain and the demonic state. He wasn’t himself. 

Maybe he was scared that something felt real, that there had been a dark piece of himself with Crowley, that he'd been himself while growing fond of Nick the siren before contacting the saliva. 

He’d found himself in Purgatory the moment he’d found Castiel. He’d been almost just as much of a monster as everything around him until holding his angel and crying into his shoulder and feeling at home with him. Whenever he started to lose himself in a flight for survival, he simply needed Cas to touch him, say his name, or just look into his eyes to make him a gentle, loving human again. Sometimes, after a particularly challenging and gruesome encounter, Dean would collapse, from both exhaustion and emotional disturbance, and Cas would always sit beside him, offer a shoulder to lean on and remind him that this wasn't where he belonged. He would stay there as long as Dean needed if that meant hours. There was a comfort in Cas’s kindness that Dean hadn't been able to name at the time, and it occurred to him now that it may have been love from Cas that he had failed to notice. 

In return, Dean had kicked him out of the bunker, then brutally beaten him under the influence of the mark. His pleading gaze into Dean had reached his heart, and he had just barely regained enough control to spare him. Remembering Cas broken and bloody made him shudder. No wonder Cas would feel like Dean didn’t care. 

Dean found himself yearning for one of those moments with Cas in his arms right now. He finally couldn’t take this anymore. The truth was that he loved Cas, and he was furious at himself that it took his angel in this much pain to make him realize it. He didn't know what he could say to make up for it, but knowing he might not get another chance, he had to try. 

After hunting the bunker for Lucifer, Dean at last found him outside… with a jar of fireflies. 

“Oh, hello Dean,” he said. He poked a finger to the jar and sent a spark through it, shocking the fireflies. That made a little more sense now. “I named this one Michael, and this is Cas, and Crowley and Rowena, and what do you say we name this one Amara?” 

“I need to talk to Cas.” Dean was too tired to beat around the bush. 

“Not my problem.” 

“Come on, just give me a minute. You're frickin immortal; it’s nothing to you.” 

“What if Cas doesn't want to talk to you?” Lucifer gave Dean a look of mock-pity. 

“Seeing as we might all be dead tomorrow could you not be a dick for once?” 

“You think I’m making this up? Cas is better off without you. You shouldn't worry about him so much. He’s safer with me than he was with you. So, wanna help me fry firefly-Amara? No?” 

Dean was already gone. 

The night blurred after that. He was drunk. He remembered seeing Lucifer again, confusing him with Cas at first, then cursing a lot, then getting an angel-tap on the head and at last falling unconscious again. 

Cas listened and heard the “I'm sorry” and the “I love you” in the ramble of drunken candor.


End file.
